


Let Me Stand Next to Your Fire

by yansurnummu



Series: Touch of the Void [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Morning Sex, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Smoking, The Void, Warnings on relevant chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-08-03 08:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yansurnummu/pseuds/yansurnummu
Summary: Bex is a gentle giant with too much kindness in his heart for his own good, and James... isn't good at processing his feelings.(A collection of standalone scenes, in no discernable order)





	1. Don't Look Back in Anger

**Author's Note:**

> James is my hunter, but Bex belongs to @thenightmaredaddyoryx on tumblr.

On occasion, he finds James catching up on much-needed rest, hood pulled over his eyes and in positions he's certain only a cat could find comfortable. Bex often thinks that in every way except literally, James rather  _ is _ a cat; lazy, unpredictable, and too often hurts the ones he loves. 

(And if he seemed distant at first, it was only because of fresh wounds.)

But he's also quick, precise, his prey never seeing him; only the darkness he leaves in his wake. There's an undeniable grace with which he moves that's rarely seen, and Bex knows he's lucky to count him amongst his allies. 

He can be soft, too, he learns. Sensitive, maybe even vulnerable. Bex finds the hunter out in the fields one night, resting at the base of a windmill with his sketchbook in his lap. He pats the space beside him when he sees him, and though Bex hesitates, he settles on the grass next to him. James never talks about what he draws, but he doesn't seem to mind his work being seen. Bex smiles fondly as he sees a familiar field of wind turbines on the page.

(A face appears consistently throughout the pages, in greater detail than the rest; sharp eyes, dark lipstick, neat, short hair. Bex asked about the figure once, and he simply closed the book.)

“I missed the wilderness, to be honest. Us hunters ain't meant to be trapped in the city,” James says eventually, and Bex turns his head to look at him. His features are handsome bathed in moonlight, he can't help but think, his eyes distant and glittering as he watches the sky.

“What did you do before?” Bex asks, the night somber and still. James offers him a cigarette when he pulls the carton from his jacket pocket, and Bex simply shakes his head. The hunter lights one, takes a drag.

“Stayed alive,” James says dismissively, then laughs when he's given a look. “I'm serious! That's all that mattered then. Don't die, don't abandon your Pack. ‘Course, it ended in tragedy. Always does, don't it?” 

Bex doesn't ask about his ‘tragedy’. He knows they've all seen plenty of it. Instead, he reaches out cautiously, much like he would a wounded animal, his arm resting softly around his shoulders. James tenses for a brief moment, before he sighs and leans against the titan’s larger form.

“Staying alive… is a lot harder than it sounds some days,” he says more softly than Bex is used to hearing from him.

“I know,” he mutters. Beneath the smoke Bex can make out the scent of earth and rosemary, the weathered leather of his jacket. It's a smell that's so distinctly  _ James _ and he can't help but drink it in as his head rests against his chest, his nose buried in soft black hair.


	2. Insomnia

James doesn't sleep most nights. If it isn't the nightmares when he does, it's the voices when he doesn't. Bex, with his kind and empathetic heart, worries over him.  _ Please,  _ he says softly,  _ try to rest. _

So he does. One chilly night, in the ruins of an old city, pouring rain pattering against concrete around them, he lays still next to Bex. 

He hears an old friend whispering to him, the sound unharmed by the rain. It's almost soothing, hearing the rough, long-dead voice calling to him, reminding him of times when together they would take shelter similarly. Life was more simple then, he thinks. There was no war, no politics to tear people away from him; just the vast expanse of wilderness and old-world ruins, the bow in his hand and the sharp eyes watching out for him. The voice makes a smartass remark about his choice in allies, and he frowns to himself. 

_ “Can it, Tevis,” _ he mutters under his breath.

“Mm?” Bex mumbles beside him, only partially still awake.

“Nothin’. Sorry,” James brushes him off, turning onto his side facing away from him. Bex doesn't press it, and for that he's grateful. He knows the Titan is aware of his hallucinations, whether he says anything or not, and he’s grateful for the grounding warmth of the man next to him. This is where he is now. He can't afford to look back.

James drifts off to sleep eventually. He's falling again, the world around him dark. He's scared. Gods, he's so scared. The sky is starless, alight now with the city burning hundreds of meters below him and the aerial siege above him. He clutches a small, broken mechanical body in his hands as he falls. He should have done more. He should have tried, for her sake if not for his own. The guilt consumes him, biting into his skin, and all he can do is sob as the void swallows him.

He wakes with a start, his body shaking. Oh, he should've known better than to try to sleep. He curses Bex and his sad, kind eyes, then takes it back when his mind catches up with what's in front of him. Warmth surrounds him, and he realizes there are strong arms around his waist and his face is buried in the crook of Bex's neck. He must've turned to face the man at some point during his short rest, he thinks, a little bit flustered. Not that he's complaining, no, not all; the man is warm and soft and James fears he might actually cry, struck with a sudden realization of how  _ starved _ for touch he's been. 

He can't help but drink in the scent of him, smoke and earth over iron and sandalwood, relaxing in his grasp with a wiry hand resting on his broad, muscular chest. This close, James’ can feel the steady rhythm of Bex's heartbeat, the hot breath in his hair. He can't remember the last time he felt so  _ safe, _ and he'd be lying if he said that didn't frighten him just a little. Not the safety, not the warmth; but rather, everything it implied. 

He dozes off again at some point, a strong hand rubbing circles into the small of his back. 

The next time he wakes, the rain has let up and he can see the sunrise beginning to peek through the cracked walls of the ruin. He's still held tightly in Bex's grasp, limbs tangled together in their sleeping bag, and for once in his life, he can't bring himself to get up. For the first time in a long time, he feels at peace.  
  



	3. King for a Day

He invites Bex out one evening; says he wants to show him something. He follows the hunter into the forest with dusk at their backs, and in the back of his mind wonders if the dark bothers him at all. Perhaps not, he thinks. Nightstalkers seem to find a home in the dark, after all.

James leads him through the woods like he's lived there his whole life, his path entirely uphill, Bex notes. They don't talk much along the way, except for when the hunter stops him suddenly, a finger to his lips. Bex is mesmerised by the silence of his footfalls as he begins to move again, following carefully as he motions for the titan to join him. Bex gasps when he sees them just ahead in a small clearing; a family of deer beginning to settle down for the night. Bex dares not get too close, but when he looks over to James, the hunter is smiling fondly at him. He quickly averts his gaze when their eyes meet, motioning in the opposite direction.

Eventually, the two of them emerge from the woods, stars glittering in the night sky of the wilderness. James leads him to the edge of a cliff, where he seats himself on a fallen, moss-covered log. Bex joins him there, fascinated when he looks over the ledge to see the lights of the farm far below. To his left, he can see the moon reflected in the lake, and he's taken aback by how  _ beautiful _ it is.

“I come here when I can't sleep,” James says. Bex supposes he visits this place often, then.

“It's incredible,” he says in awe.

“Isn't it?” James chuckles while he works his lighter. 

A comfortable silence stretches between the two, broken only by the sound of crickets in the woods behind them as Bex takes in the scenery. He doesn't even really mind that it's partially obscured by cigarette smoke - no, rather, it's become almost comforting. Just another signifier of his hunter's presence.

“Bex, I wanted to tell you something,” James says suddenly, and Bex turns his head to him to see his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“What's up?” Bex asks, studying his face.

“After what happened, I…” he sighs as if struggling to find the words. “I was ready to die out there on my own. I really was, but…” 

“James,” his name escapes Bex's lips in a whisper, and he turns to look at him. Bex sees a multitude of  _ emotion _ in his coffee-brown eyes, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch him.

“I just… meeting you? I'm really glad I didn't. Die, I mean,” their eyes meet for a moment before James hides once more behind his cigarette.

“I'm glad I met you, too,” Bex says softly, sincerely. James sighs, smoke rising from his lips, and Bex moves his hand to gingerly cover his hunter's, resting on the log between them. James’ eyes snap back towards him, the look on his face somewhere between surprise and desperation.

“Bex, I…” he trails off as he studies the titan’s face, fingers lacing between his own. “Shit, man, I'm - I'm no good at this, I just - I like you a lot. More than… more than I know how to deal with,” he says softly, and Bex can't help but smile as he watches him, his heart fluttering in his chest and his free hand nervously pulling at the hem of his jacket.

“Hey, it's alright. I like you a lot, too,” it's an understatement, Bex thinks, but the hunter's eyes light up as he speaks. It's endearing watching him stumble, though, flustered over something as simple as Bex's hand on his. James’ lips part as if to say something, gaze darting between the titan’s eyes and his mouth, and Bex subconsciously leans towards him.

“Hey, Bex?” James says breathily, and Bex hums in response. “Would - would you mind if I kissed you?” they're just inches away from each other, and Bex stifles a laugh at how  _ cute _ he is when he's nervous.

“I'd like that, yeah,” he grins and James closes the gap between them. 

A sigh of relief escapes Bex's nose as warm lips move slowly against his own, unusually gentle and testing as if savouring the moment, and he's mesmerised by how soft James’ lips are in comparison to the roughness of his facade. The hunter pulls away just enough to look at him, breath hot and mingling in the space between them. 

His brown eyes are dark and full of fondness as he studies his titan, a smile playing at his lips before he leans in again. Bex gently cups his face with his free hand, terrified he'll frighten him away if he moves too quickly, his thumb catching on the short scruff along his hunter's jaw. To his relief, James’ hand moves to the back of his neck, urging him closer, deeper. He licks into Bex's mouth and he doesn't even mind the taste of tobacco on his tongue, too caught up in the fact that _ he's kissing him _ and he's kissing Bex back. Broad fingers move to comb through his hair and a low rumble escapes his throat that makes Bex's stomach flip excitedly. He sounds wonderful, feels wonderful beneath his fingers, and all Bex wants is  _ more.  _

When they finally part, both of them are out of breath. Bex continues to smooth his fingers through soft black curls as James ducks his head into the crook of his neck, the sigh that escapes his lips tickling his collarbone. 

“I've been wanting to do that a long time,” James gives a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah,” Bex agrees, still slightly dazed.

“I should get you back before it gets too late,” he says, but doesn't move. “Or else your sister’s gonna kill me,” Bex can't help but laugh at that, and the hunter pulls back enough to look at him with a smile.

“She might anyways, you know,” he gives a playfully indignant look and Bex grins. 

Bex leans in to capture his lips once more, unable to resist the pull. He feels James grin against him, a wiry hand running along his chest before resting on his shoulder. He sighs contentedly when they part again, revelling in the light scratch of James’ beard when he moves to place a kiss to his jaw.

“Alright, come on,” the titan laughs, and James pulls back with a chuckle. 

It takes every ounce of willpower he has to stand, offering the hunter his hand to pull him to his feet. Finally, the two of them reluctantly begin to make their way back down the mountain, hand in hand.


	4. Any Way You Want It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw chapter!

James sits draped across his lap, one arm over his shoulder and the other holding a drink, a grin across his face as he settles in close. A smile pulls at Bex's lips as he looks at him, a hand resting on his knee. Firelight dances in the hunter's eyes and in his hair, illuminating deep browns and golds and reds, and Bex couldn't look away if he wanted to.

James laughs at something Hawthorne says from across the fire pit, turning his head in her direction and shouting back over the hum of the gathering. Bex feels a sense of warmth as he watches his hunter, grinning as he leans back into him with a flirtatious smirk. He places lazy kisses along Bex's jaw and the titan drags his hand from his knee to his waist, pulling him closer into his larger chest.

Bex thinks back to when he first met him on that refugee ship all those months ago, back to the skittish, disheveled shell of a man he was then. He remembers how he flinched away from touch, voice quiet and hoarse on the rare times he did speak. Bex pitied him. He never imagined that he would feel so strongly for him.

His head rests in the crook of Bex's neck as fingers comb through his hair, the revelries beginning to die down as the night goes on. Bex is greeted by the scent of spices and earth as he buries his nose in soft black curls, and James hums wearily against him.

“Time for bed?” Bex asks softly, earning a tired grunt in reply.

“Only if you carry me,” James mumbles. Bex knows it's a joke. He's always joking. But he scoops the hunter's wiry form into his arms anyways, chuckling at the startled sound it earns him.

“Sure thing, babe,” his arms wrap tightly around Bex's neck, and even though he's gone back to burying his face in the crook of his neck, the titan can just picture how _red_ he must be.

* * *

 

Bex wakes that morning with the hunter in his arms, a mess of black curls tucked under his chin and slow breaths tickling his chest. Instinctively, he pulls James tighter against him, strong arms around his waist and lips pressing against the top of his head. James hums, stirring from his sleep and leaning into his titan’s touch.

He places slow, weary kisses to Bex's throat, who can't help but sigh when he feels his tongue against his skin. The hunter shifts in his grasp to reach more of Bex's exposed neck, and Bex bites his lip when he feels his arousal pressed against his thigh. He rocks his hips into him experimentally, heart skipping a beat when a soft moan escapes his throat. Suddenly, all Bex can focus on is that _noise_ and _how badly he wants to hear more of it._

He smooths a hand down his back as the breath on his neck becomes heavier, another stifled moan against his skin as Bex kneads at his firm ass through his pants. James grinds against him with his encouragement, no doubt aware of the titan’s own growing arousal pressed against his hip.

Bex pulls the hunter's leg over his waist, urging him closer, drunk on the sounds of his pleasure, and when he looks at Bex his eyes are dark with need, lips parted as he gasps and sighs. He moans low when he's kissed hard, Bex's fingers running teasingly along the cleft of his clothed ass as they rut against each other.

“Bex, _please,”_ James whimpers against the titan’s lips, the desperation in his voice making Bex's cock throb. “Oh, _fuck_ , come on, I want you so bad,” he pleads.

Bex watches him for a moment before bringing his hand to caress his face, eventually pressing two fingers against his lips. There's a brief moment of surprise before he eagerly sucks them into his mouth, practiced tongue swirling around them. A groan escapes Bex's throat as he watches the erotic display, a bit of drool escaping the hunter's lips as he reluctantly withdraws his fingers.

James gasps excitedly as a broad hand dips into his underwear, slick fingers slipping between firm cheeks. He clings to Bex's shoulders, arching into his touch, desperate little sounds falling from his lips as those fingers press against his entrance. He mouths at his titan’s neck as one finger slides in, moaning low against his skin.

“More, more, please,” Bex can just make out from his mumbling. He lets out pleased sighs as the digit slides in and out of him, and Bex groans as he nips at his neck, hips jerking into him. James gasps when a second digit is added alongside the first, hands gripping Bex's shoulders as he grinds into the touch. _“Shit, yes, please,”_ he repeats as they move, only stopping when the fingers curl inside him, eliciting a long, muffled moan as they stroke his prostate. Bex can't help but growl posessively, dipping his head and sinking his teeth into his hunter's shoulder. James groans and squirms at the rough handling, his grip on the man tightening as he continues his movements. _“Oh, god, y-yeah, fuck me, just - just like that,”_

Bex's cock aches uncomfortably in his pants as he listens to him ramble, his fingers pounding the spot that makes him sound the sweetest. He's always wanted to know how the hunter would look beneath him, knees apart and ass on display for him; but the two of them just haven't found the time to take things that far yet. But hearing him babble as he fingers him makes Bex want it more than ever.

“Bex, oh, _fuck, Bex,_ I'm - _fuck, I'm close,”_ James whines, and the desperation in his voice pushes Bex that much closer to the edge too. Bex moans, mouthing at his shoulder as James’ hand slips into his pants to free his aching cock. He rocks his hips into the hunter's hand, their cocks sliding together in his grasp as he continues to thrust his fingers against his prostate. James mumbles a warning against his shoulder before his hips stutter and he's coming messily between their bodies.

Bex withdraws his fingers as James continues to stroke him roughly, and it doesn't take long for him to follow the hunter over the edge. James’ grip tightens around his cock as he comes in thick streaks over his hand, and Bex leans in to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. He moans into the hunter's mouth as he pries him open, tongue pushing past soft lips and exploring him, memorizing him.

Eventually they part, catching their breath and studying each other fondly. Bex worries his lip between his teeth when James brings his own  hand up to his lips, licking the mess of their mixed cum off his fingers. He reaches off the side of the bed and throws a dirty shirt between them with a roll of his eyes, though he can't deny how _hot_ the display was.

“What's the time?” James asks after he's wiped up their mess. Bex looks back over his shoulder to check the clock.

“Still got about ten minutes,” he sighs. James grumbles and curls into him again, lithe arms around the titan’s waist.

Well, maybe twenty would be alright.


	5. This Charming Man

The first time he meets James, the man is silent, still, hunched over on his own in the refugee ship. His face is obscured by the tattered hood he wears, though Bex can make out his prominent, beak-like nose and scruffy beard. His head turns slightly in Bex's direction as he moves to sit beside him and asks his name. He doesn't reply.

_ He goes by James, _ his Ghost answers in his stead, optic blinking from where she's hidden under his hood,  _ I'm Minali, _ she adds.

“I'm Bex,” he says, though not before hesitating. “And over there is my twin sister, Hex. I know, it's a little confusing,” he motions across the ship to a warlock who shares in many of his own characteristics; nebulae dancing under deep indigo skin, sharp green eyes. She only nods solemnly in acknowledgement.

James’ form is tall and wiry, his clothes dirty, leather boots caked with mud. Bex realizes he's a Hunter, from the empty quiver at his thigh painted with a familiar serpentine design in a purple ink. From where Bex sits beside him, he can now tell that his scent is not particularly pleasant, earth and smoke masking blood and sweat. 

Though, Bex supposes he's not out of place on the ship. All of them have had a very rough few weeks since the attack. He feels a sudden urge to take care of him. Pulling dried food out of his pack, Bex offers some to him, asking if he's hungry.

“No,” he mumbles at the same time his Ghost says  _ yes. _ Bex is taken aback as she begins speaking to him harshly in a language the titan doesn't know. James shifts uncomfortably, pulling at a tear in his glove as she chews him out until eventually he takes the pack Bex offered to him. 

“Thank you,” James turns to face him, though he doesn't make eye contact. His voice is rough, hoarse, as if not used in a long time, his lips chapped and pale in comparison to his brown skin. Bex can now see that he has several deep cuts that appear to be healing over, running over a high cheekbone under deep brown eyes encircled with dark lines. Under his hood, a mess of loose black curls streaked with a subtle strand of grey is visible, unwashed and tangled with twigs and other forest debris. At some point, he may have been very handsome, Bex thinks distantly. 

 

The next day, Bex watches him emerge from the farmhouse bathroom in only a towel from where he sits in their communal living space, idly cleaning his rifle. 

And then Bex tries in vain not to stare as he realizes how  _ wrong _ he was the previous day; the hunter is  _ definitely _ still handsome.

He cleans up well. His loose black curls now appear soft and fluffy, still a little damp and clinging to his neck. It looks as if he had attempted to shave his face with something not entirely suited for the job, an even stubble still visible along his jaw. He nods briefly in Bex's direction before shuffling through the cabinet where he left his clothing.

His eyes roam over broad shoulders down his finely-muscled back, and Bex's eyes widen when the towel drops, getting a good look at the hunter's round, toned ass and strong thighs before tearing his eyes away. He tries to busy himself with putting back together his rifle, his cheeks burning.

He shifts awkwardly where he sits, cursing himself as his eyes keep wandering back to the hunter. His skin looks soft, though it's marred with old scars and black ink, his body covered in the same thick, dark hair that once adorned his face. He's wearing pants now at least, the now scuffed and weathered leather that Bex knows goes under his armour. 

He holds up the shirt he had been wearing previously, considering the ratty garment unhappily. Bex looks up again and James has moved, now digging through a drawer across the room. He seemingly finds what he's looking for, procuring a small box and crossing the room to sit on the floor beside Bex with the offending shirt in his lap. 

By this point, the titan has cleaned and reassembled and dismantled his rifle again a few too many times than was necessary, and he's thankful that no one in the room seems to have noticed.

He watches in awe as James picks a needle and a spool of thread from the box, deftly threading the needle and tying it off before sticking a couple of pins into a tear in the shirt. Up close, he can now see that the shirt is a patchwork of odd stitches, threadbare at the seams, and Bex doesn't want to be  _ rude,  _ but… 

“Hey, uh,” he tries, watching the hunter stitch together the new tear. “I've got a spare shirt if you need one?” it might be a bit big, he thinks as he eyes the man's lithe body next to him. Oh, god, he's even hotter up close.

James looks up from his work, seemingly taken aback. “This is fine. It's fixable,” he says, a little confused. 

Bex holds back a grimace. “Well, yeah, sure, but - you know. If you want,” he stumbles over his words now, worried he may have offended the hunter. James blinks a few times, and Bex can't help but notice his long eyelashes, as thick and dark as the rest of his hair, the subtle creases at the corners of his eyes.

The corner of his mouth twitches, almost a smile, but not quite. “I… thanks,” he says softly, returning to his work. “I'll keep that in mind,”

This time, Bex does grimace.


	6. Basket Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***  
> tw for self harm, suicide, impermanent death  
> ***

James never minded the way death felt. Free. Weightless. It was as close to peace as he'd ever felt.

It didn't usually matter. He'd have his little episode, Minali would rez him, he'd feel like shit the rest of the week. Rinse and repeat. 

He kept to himself; there wasn't ever anyone around to worry over him and his tendencies. Until there was.

 

_ You're worthless. _

“Stop it,”

_ A freak. You think anyone actually likes you? _

“Please,”

_ Don't make me laugh, Jai. You're just a burden.  _

James’ forehead hits the wall, the aluminum clanking with the impact. It's cold, so cold it burns.

_ No one would miss you if you disappeared. _

Distantly, he hears Minali call his name. Deep in his heart, he knows. He knows none of it's real.

But the voice is right. He should just… disappear. It would be better for everyone.

_ You won't do it. You're a coward, no matter what.  _

His hands shake, his vision blurring through tears. His head impacts with the wall again.

There's blood on his hands, pouring down his forearm. He doesn't remember taking up his knife, but he holds it in an unsteady hand. 

The pain is real, he knows that much. It's as real as the light under his veins, burning cold beneath his flesh. He wants to tear it out.

_ Worthless. You're worthless, Jai. _

Minali’s shouting, calling to him in his native tongue, but his ears are ringing and he feels dizzy. He watches blood drip from his skin in morbid fascination.

_ You can't even cut deep enough to stay dead. _

He brings the blade to his wrist, a small whimper escaping him as he runs it along his flesh again, and again. If he could just disappear into the puddle forming around him, that would be alright with him.

“James!” a voice comes through the fog. Real or not, he can't tell. It doesn't matter anyways. It isn't long before the void takes him, a comfortable black numbness enveloping him.

 

When he comes to, he's still in his ship. He stares at the ceiling as he lays in his bunk, a feeling of emotional numbness overcoming him in the aftermath. 

Minali sits patiently on his chest. She looks at him sadly when his eyes fall to her small frame and suddenly there's a tightness in his throat. He lifts a shaking hand, thumb brushing over the worn metal of her plates.

He startles when he hears footsteps, pacing back and forth over the metal floors. His blood runs cold, a sense of panic beginning to rise in his chest.  _ No, this isn't happening. _

Bex appears in the doorway, pushing aside the curtain to his narrow bedroom. Green eyes widen when they fall on him, and he takes takes a step forward before he visibly hesitates. 

Minali picks herself up, going to hover by the doorway as Bex finally moves towards him. James can't stop the tears in his eyes, and his hands move to cover his face, and he's  _ ashamed,  _ so ashamed of himself. He's worthless, he's a freak, he's disgusting, unworthy of love, and -

And before the panic fully sets in, he finds himself pulled into Bex's arms, familiar warmth enveloping him. He all but sobs into Bex's chest, the grip around him almost crushing, but not enough to hurt, never enough to hurt.

Distantly, he hears another set of footfalls, sharp clicks on the aluminum. It isn't long before he feels smaller hands on his back, the soft chiming of jewelry as a head rests against the back of his shoulder. It's a person he'd know anywhere, and he melts into the touches of the man in front of him and the being behind him.

 

“I… I didn't know what to do, so I called Kara,” Bex breaks the silence when James pulls back just enough to wipe his eyes.

“Mm. Your timing was impeccable. I was just leaving a meeting in the city,” Kara says softly, tracing circles into James’ back with a slender finger. The sound of her voice draws a relieved sigh from him.

“I'm sorry,” James chokes out. 

“Oh, hush. There's no need for that,” Kara moves into his view, stroking curls away from his face. Full lips curl into a soft smile. “If you're feeling up to it, I picked up some of your favourite mithai while I was in the city,”

“And I found some Golden Age movies I thought you might like. You know, the musical kind?” Bex adds.

James stares at the two of them, wide-eyed. He can't fathom what he ever did to  _ deserve  _ such kindness, such tolerance. He bites his lips, afraid he might cry again, and Kara clicks her tongue.

“Oh, Jaideep, darling,” Kara's arms loop around his waist, her lips pressing into his temple. “You're safe here, I promise,” 

He feels warm lips on his cheek on the opposite side. “Let us take care of you?” Bex mutters.

Despite himself, James does cry. 

 

The two of them wrap blankets around them, Kara disappearing briefly to retrieve a box of various desserts that remind James of times long past, lives lived long ago. They huddle around a datapad, comfortably close in James’ small ship bunk, limbs tangled together for the next few hours as they lose themselves in age-old films.

And Bex kisses him, his lips tasting of sugar and cream, and he can't help but smile. Kara chuckles when he turns his head to kiss her next, a spidery hand smoothing through his hair while Bex places soft kisses along his neck. 

For once, James is glad he's still alive. He thinks he'd very much like to see where this might lead.


	7. The Kids Aren't Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little conversation between James and Hawthorne

“Man, you Guardians can be pretty unsettling sometimes,” Suraya watches him as he approaches, her arms crossed over her chest. “Can't believe you just… do stuff like that  _ for fun,” _

James barks out a laugh as he moves to sit beside her on her perch. “You saw all that, huh?” 

“That's my job,” she nudges the sniper rifle at her side. “If there's one thing you're good for, it's making a boring watch interesting,” she sighs, turning to face the sunset over the fields.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” James grins. He holds out a bit of stolen stale bread, luring Louis to perch on his arm. The falcon does, though not without pecking a hole in his finger as he takes the bait. He swears he hears Suraya chuckle as he hisses, sucking on the wound as the bird looks at him innocently with a cock of his head.

They stay quiet for a time, the relative silence only broken by Louis’ soft coos as he lets James run his fingers through his feathers.

“I'm glad to see you doing better,” Suraya says eventually, turning to face him again. James looks up, surprised. “I know it… wasn't easy. Losing all that you did,” she studies him for a moment before averting her gaze once more.

“Thanks. I… I appreciate that,” he says softly. Louis hops from his leather-clad forearm to his lap, and he grimaces as sharp talons dig into his thigh through less sturdy fabric.

“Think he likes you,” Suraya’s gaze returns to him, a look of amusement barely present on her face. James laughs through the pain, both hands now stroking sleek feathers as the falcon leans happily into his touch.

“Has a funny way of showing it, dontcha?” he leans down and the bird creens, nuzzling against his cheek. He sighs, then, “Suraya?”

She hums, and their eyes meet, mirrored shades of dark brown.

“Thank you. For, uh… being honest like that. Kickin’ me back into gear,” James says softly, busying his hands with the falcon’s feathers. Suraya stares at him blankly for a moment before a smile cracks across her face. And then she laughs, shaking her head, and James can't help but pout.

“Not often I get thanked for yelling at folk,” she says with a smile.

“I mean it,” despite himself, he can't stop himself from returning her smile. He swallows, eyes falling back to Louis before he continues. “I'm… nothin’ on my own. Minali’s the glue barely holdin’ me together, and with her shaken up like that…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Hey, I get it. It's tough to see someone you love hurting,” Suraya says, her voice softer than usual. “But… I  _ was _ harsh. I said things I didn't mean. And I'm sorry for that,” James huffs out a laugh and Louis seems to perk up.

“Thanks, Suraya,” he turns towards her, relieved. The corner of her mouth quirks into a shy smile.

“We… good?” she asks, a little cautious.

“Yeah, we're good,” James chuckles. 

He's a little surprised when he feels her shift closer and hook an arm around his shoulders, but he leans into her anyways, his grin hidden from her view as his head falls against her shoulder. The moment is quickly broken by Louis’ startled squawk, followed by Suraya’s offended  _ you shut up! _ and James’ laughing as they pull away from each other. 

“Alright, I'll let you get back to your watch,” the falcon flutters off of him as he stands, landing back on his perch behind Suraya.

“See you ‘round!” she calls after him, “Oh, and one more thing-” he turns back to her, eyebrows raised. “You're a good guy, Jim. Pinky’d better treat you right, or I'm gonna have words for him,” he knows she only partially jokes, and he shakes his head as he begins to descend from the barn.

“Man, you would make a damn good Hunter,” he calls back.


End file.
